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Town to be rebuilt!!!!

Press Release- Chapelsnap (AP) The Toxico Corporation is please to announce their rural renewal campaign,designed for the misguided folk of chapelsnap who had the misfortune ofa natural disaster when El Pinto destroyed much of the town. In return forcontrol of chapelsnap city council (although Mayor Wabash will still wieldceremonial powers) and 200 acres of the McPoodle conservation land for a steam to trash plant, the Toxico Corporationwill proudly offer new modular homes for townsfolk with the intent of relocation to the beautiful suburb of weltsville.


Local Author/Curmudgeon Shubert Fieffer wrote this incediary response, in his traditional unfinished-short story format in response on behalf of theChapelsnappers against Mother Fuckers (CAMF) Campaign:

You Bet Urethra

Chapter One

Dr Aza Limpky viewed Urology not so much as a medical practice as a gentleman's sport. Yes, with all its costumed finery, social implications and gossip of the day, the probing of all things bladder-related no longer involved health. Aza threw himself into the fray, demanding and withstanding all of the positive and negative aspects Urologists loved and loathed. Still, as he was a trained podiatrist, Dr. Aza Limpky was viewed with suspicion by his colleagues and derision by his own claque. To Aza this was as meaningless as a cowper's gland in the desert sun. He was his own man, and with or without the appropriate tools he would do what he felt he must do. And it involved penises.

All of the energy expended over the issue- by Aza, by his family, by his clergymen, by acquaintances and even by the total strangers who frowned in dismay during unsolicited, public prostate-manipulation under an unconvincing hygenic pretense- it was all rendered moot when Aza met his maker, the Toxico 9000 Human-Making machine.

Aza fell to his knees, ashamed of how he had spent his life, how he had allowed trivialities to lead him astray from his one true path. He regretted every wasted moment, from his headlining at Stardust Casino in Vegas to his constant physical encounters with up to six women at a time to his aforementioned selfish devotion to the evil, evil parts of the human body. Aza raised his arms to be shown the way. The Toxico 9000 Human-Making Machine laughed a haughty, vaguely sexual laugh, and vomited limbs and innards on the man who had selfishly marked his time. Aza drowned in bits of strangers. This was too fitting to be irony. This was judgement. And so the end came for Aza as it must come for all men. Except Stan, the immortal chimneysweep. We shall return to him momentarily.

Email: gapasles@sas.upenn.edu